This weekend Prairiewoods hosts its annual Blessing of the Animals, a beautiful ritual celebrating the deep bonds animals and humans share. The wisdom of age-old stories and cultures tells us that no boundaries exist between animals and humans. Animals relate with humans every day through appearance, behavior, movement and pattern. Anticipating this favorite Blessing of the Animals ritual reminds me of so many pets of my childhood. Maybe, what Saint Francis really meant was the blessing of us by animals.
Growing up on 30 acres of woods and prairies in a small, rural, northeastern Illinois community, animals WERE family. Major, our first horse “broke” my dad into a saddle one Sunday afternoon as the entire neighborhood came to meet the newest member of our family. It seemed to beg the question: Who broke whom? Tall, lean, and strong, Major’s shiny auburn coat and soft, white muzzle offered each of us a sense of respect, intimacy and freedom. Major rode us through wide-open fields, across creek beds, under starlit skies … You sensed freedom from the second your rear hit the saddle. He heard our sob stories and nuzzled our laughter as he chewed an entire green apple whole. Major would take you anywhere you wanted to go. He loved to RUN. And run wildly free we did!
Dave, the baby raccoon, endeared himself immediately having sprung from Dad’s lunch pail at the dinner table one night. Though mom wasn’t initially pleased with a raccoon scampering through the mashed potatoes, sniffing the gravy and eating the tidbits of corn left in the bowl, we six kids were speechless as Dave curiously found his way into the heart of the family—even to mom’s. Dave loved to ride on the shoulder of anyone driving our Honda 50 minibike. The masked marauder ran to the bike as soon as he heard the engine rev. Some 48 years later, we still laugh sharing memories of that surprise dinner guest. Dave’s curiosity about EVERYTHING fascinated us. His dexterous paws were his key to shelter in the shed or to freedom atop a porch roof or to a bath in the dog’s dish.
Dave and our dog, Sox, bed together every night outside in the “coon” house insulated with straw. Sox’s fidelity to Dave and to the entire the community of animals on the 30 acres astonished us and exemplified community living. Each day Sox visited each of the pets—even the billy goat atop an old car that resided on the land. Sox sat for hours in the shade of that car communing with ol’ Billie.
And then Bonnie and Clyde, two favorite snow geese—strays who missed their migration cue one fall. They were as uppity as Sox was hospitable. Their incessant honking called us from the woods each night for supper. We honked our way back to the house, laughing at many a honking conversation while feeding them a handful of berries. Bonnie and Clyde taught us how to let go as they took flight with the next year’s flock. We cried like babies at their leaving until Dad assured that if we honked loud enough, we could bring them back in Spring.
Animals touch the primal within and stir mystery, wonder, imagination … “Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened,” wrote novelist and storyteller Anatole France. We owe a great debt of gratitude to these and so many beautiful animals who graciously weave together family life. They asked no questions and passed no judgement. “Wild” and “tame” held no distinction (except to describe us kids). They WERE family and faithful companions.
Maybe, Saint Francis had it right in the first place: Come, be blessed by animals!
See you Sunday! 1–4 p.m.
—Ann Jackson, PBVM, Prairiewoods spiritual services coordinator